Corpse Childe
by Nyx Crepsley
Summary: A VTM thread made in to a story.
1. Chapter 1

_**Something old, something new, something stolen and something RED**_

A WOD VTM fanfiction: Is an actual thread created on Danse Macabre Vampires the Masquerade that a RP friend and I created.

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable is NOT I repeat NOT mine. Only Andreea is mine, I mean literally she's my character, I role play her on a VTM website. I kept re reading this thread and just couldn't resist making it my own. In a way at least… So if I get hell for it… ok I really won't care. Seeing as that I made no money off of it and this is just for fun….

By the way, for any of you looking for a new VTM WOD site to join, Danse Macabre is looking for new players… mainly Sabbat please, there are only like four of us compared to like 12 Cammies… we could really use some Sabbat. Anyway, this story is not entirely mine, at least in the beginning it's not… but once it starts to seem a little more romance than anything then it will be entirely mine. The main part of it is really just a thread that I role-played on, and it will be kind of set up like one too. So yeah…. On with the story!

* * *

The rain poured down on the streets of London, lighting flashes in the sky and thunder crashes and roars at the sleeping city. An asylum for the mentally insane, long since boarded up, abandoned and forgotten sits menacingly by itself, only hinting of the true horror that lies within. A black alley cat yowls and hisses at the rain. Its ears drawn back and back arched, it darts in to the building through a large gap in the boards and disappears inside.

*inside*

Through a doorway, several large tables with scientific equipment are in a semi-circle around a large operating table with shackles at each corner and a white sheet over it. A mortal man is being held by said shackles, the soft sound of Elvis' voice, "Love me Tender" echoes throughout the halls. A white sheet covers the lower half of the man's nude body. His eyes are glazed and roll around the room blindly. There are stitches on his throat, clearly surgical. It seems as though the man's vocal cords have been removed. A woman with fiery red hair, a monster's green eyes and blood red lips and deathly pail skin stands nearby.

She stands with her back to the man, in a white lab coat, bent over a table scribbling notes, then reading another old note book made out of human skin and written in blood, before she picks up a sterile needle and syringe. She inserts the needle and fills the syringe with a clear liquid, careful not to add any air to the mixture, lest she ruin it or cause an unwanted reaction with the chemicals. She gently flicks the needle to remove the air and gently presses on the plunger. A small bit of the liquid shots up and she stops pressing. She smiles hideously. She walks over to the captive man, as her black heels click ominously on the solid concrete floor. She rubs alcohol on the man's arm over a vein.

"Now, this will probably be most painful... "The woman giggles, "Well, not that you would be able to confirm it, little rat... You do not say much of anything anymore, do you now?" She croons sweetly as she presses the needle in and pushes the plunger down.

The man goes still for a moment before he begins to tremble violently. A silent scream shoots from his lips. He spasms and veins bulge. The woman watches scribbling notes in her boot as fast as she can while watching the man dispassionately. Then the man goes still again and then goes limp and moves no more.

The woman frowns and moves closer to check the man's pulse... there isn't one. A look of pure fury and frustration flashes across the woman's face.

She curses in several languages, slamming the syringe down on table. A creature in a dark corner hisses and yowls angrily, for being disturbed from its slumber. Before it darts over to his mistress. It is the short hair black alley cat, much larger than normal; perhaps it too has been surgically altered by this mad doctor.

It's yellow eyes flash as it meows, purrs and twists around his mistresses legs, wanting attention. The woman covers the man's corps with a sheet to be used later, and sets her note book down back on the table with the others. She sighs bracing herself against the table, looking at the older looking notebook.

"What were you searching for Sire? What is this experiment about? Your notes are vague and strange... that is not like you. What were you trying to prove? What did you not complete? My beloved sire, Tata... I need your help..."

The woman whispered lovingly and almost tenderly stroking the book. A flicker of something almost human lights up in her eyes, but it quickly fades. The cat looks up at his mistress and yowls loudly, demanding her attention. The woman looks down at her cat and smiles. Taking off her rubber gloves and throwing them and her used syringe and needles in to a hazard box that hangs on the table.

She murmurs to the cat in another language, which merely meows back at her. She picks up the cat idly stroking his fur. The cat purrs and nuzzles the woman's hand. The woman smiles at her cat muttering, "Such a good girl…" and walks out of the room and in to the shadows, leaving the forgotten corps to rot, uncaring and unfeeling.

"I hope you have hunted tonight Dr. Jekyll... Your mistress has a very important job tonight, She must find where the Archbishop's haven tonight, so that I may let them know that I am here. It would be most rude of me if I were to leave them ignorant." The cat meowed loudly. Idly she wondered what said Archbishop would be like... but she waved it off, he was still a Sabbat and regardless of clan she would respect them, she had to on her pride alone.

The red headed woman set down the cat and walks behind a privacy screen to change. A second cat meows at her from atop of a shelf. This cat has clearly been altered given its monstrous state. One of its eyes is green the other black, its paws are a chestnut red while its body is mainly black and brown and covered it stitches. It has additions upon it that no cat should have, such as what appears to be an addition under the skin along both sides of the spine, giving it bumps on both sides of each vertebra; there is a twitch to it that shows its ultimately feral nature. It is a hideous creature unlike its counterpart who is very beautiful.

"Greetings to you as well Mr. Hyde." The woman coos at her pet as she reaches up to scratch the cat almost lovingly behind one of its clearly stitched on ears. The second cat follows her behind the privacy screen and jumps on top of the shelf, curling up next to its companion.

The woman opens a nearly empty closet and searches for something to wear. When she finally emerges, she is wearing a gown black as pitch, with a basic tule with renaissance sleeves, a clinched waist and a dropped silhouette. It is decorated with a blood red under tuck and sheer V top, and matching red lace over her exposed chest. There is a silver spider broach at her throat, long black gloves on her hands that reach the crook of her elbows, and a snow white lily pinned in her fiery red hair that cascades down her shoulders like a bloody waterfall.

The woman looks in to an old dust covered mirror and nods at her choice of clothing before she moves to what used to be a bathroom. She applies a light coating of make-up, eye liner and lip gloss, and fussed with her hair until she is satisfied with it, at last leaving it down and over her shoulders with the one strand held back by a whit lily pin.

The woman then heads towards the back door putting on a pair of long black gloves and grabbing a black umbrella, she headed out the door, locking it tightly behind her. The rain had finally stopped but the storm still brewed, thunder rumbled but the lighting had stopped, leaving the air cold and damp.

*At the Archbishops Haven*

It didn't take long for her to reach the Archbishops territory or where she had heard it would be. Then again her haven was too far away from The Hackney Empire. The woman now stood by the door of the building…

* * *

R&R

Come to the Dark side… We have cookies!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Disclaimer: Still not entirely mine…..

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The Nosferatu twitched into action almost as soon as she had stopped before the threshold. His grubby eye leered through the peep hole, and he grunted his surprise. New faces generally didn't try to come in here, and when they did-

"Let the poor girl in." Wadsworth, the ghoul manservant of the Archbishop, had once again crept up on him and bellowed louder than necessary to compensate for his own deafness. The man was a nuisance, but the lowly guard was in no position to strap a bell to Monroe's ghoul. That would be unwise. "He would like to see her."

The door creaked open and revealed the beauty of the world famous Empire, now dim and quiet. "Good evening Miss." The manservant bowed respectfully as usual, "if you would follow me."

Andreea jumped as she heard a man's voice bellow through the door. Strange she usually wasn't startled by such things. The door opened and what she suspected was a servant ghoul greeted her with a bow. She curtsied purely out of habit.

"A fair evening to you as well."

Without pause or delay, the decrepit old man turned on his heels and cut across the lobby. He passed the entrance to the main hall, the theatre itself, but did not spare a glance. He saw it every night for over two years, a masterpiece twisted and sullied by the Sabbat. Not his Master, no, no. He was a civilized gentleman, unless wronged.

She muttered to him, before she quickly followed him inside, her heels clicking on the floor. Andreea's eyes flicked around the inside of the building as she followed the servant, taking in her surrounds. Defiantly a Sabbat Haven… no doubt about that, she thought idly.

He led her up the stairs to the office that once held the manager, and probably the only pure and unspoiled area of the building. He paused briefly before the doors as he always did, gaining his composure and preparing for his lord. He lived only to please his master, and mistakes drew more consequences than a scolding. Many may think that living with such extremes was no way to live, but as Wadsworth turned and smiled at her, he felt sorry for those who didn't.

The Archbishop sat in the dim light of the former office, standing ready to greet his guest. "Good evening young Cainite."

He extended his hand, took hers and bowed his head ever so slightly. His soft tone quickly turned to a growl as he directed his attention to his servant.

"Wadsworth, if you would." The ghoul came quickly running to take her umbrella for her. Like all obedient dogs, scolding's only added to his loyalty.

He looked at her again, "please." The Irishman's face remained unchanged, but he gestured warmly one of the many leather settees arranged in a square ahead of the desk. "I am Magnus Monroe of the clan Lasombra, Archbishop of London."

* * *

R&R

Come to the dark side… we have cookies!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: nope not mine...

* * *

The Archbishop was in the dim light of the former office, standing ready to greet her. "Good evening young Cainite." He extended his hand, took her gloved one and bowed his head ever so slightly. Andreea curtsied in kind,

"A good evening to as well, sir."

Her voice was barely over a whisper; one didn't need to speak loudly all the time, especially not a lady. Immediately her sixth sense raised a red flag in her mind, this vampire was powerful; she knew it without really knowing how. But she knew… her almost electric, swirling green eyes did not reveal fear, but a great deal of respect for this older being.

His soft tone quickly turned to a growl as he directed his attention to his servant. "Wadsworth, if you would." The ghoul came quickly running to take her umbrella for her. She nodded at the ghoul and handed it to the servant.

He looked at her again, "please." The Irishman's face remained unchanged, but he gestured warmly one of the many leather settees arranged in a square ahead of the desk. "I am Magnus Monroe of the clan Lasombra, Archbishop of London." Andreea seemed to relax ever so slightly to hear he was of an allied clan… a Lasombra, she could trust his clan... but could she trust him?

"Thank you, Sir…" Andreea followed his lead to the leather settees. "A true pleasure to meet you, Sir. I am Andreea Serge, of the clan Tzimisce." Still there was something very unsettling about this vampire.

Andreea's eyes followed his every move, never once letting him out of her sight. If one thing was obvious, it was that Andreea was a cautious creature who trusted no one. She looked young, extremely young. It wasn't just the fact that she only appeared to be but 18 years old, she, as a vampire, just seemed young... childlike almost. If she was scared it didn't show. Her spine was perfectly straight and she emanated confidence, but great youth too.

She was dressed from head to toe in black, the color for one in mourning; it was a relatively simple dress, very modest. It was a basic tule with renaissance sleeves, a clinched waist and a dropped silhouette. It is decorated with a blood red under tuck and sheer V top, and matching red lace over her exposed chest. There is a silver spider broach at her throat, long black gloves on her hands that reach the crook of her elbows, and a snow white lily pinned in her fiery red hair that cascades down her shoulders like a bloody waterfall.

But it was the broach at her throat that seemed to draw attention. It was a large silver spider; it seemed to be filled with some kind of thick red liquid, blood perhaps? But not human blood, no it was by far too dark. Vampire blood then? But why would she wear a broach filled with vampire blood?

The cloth part of the collar was strange too, it seemed to be... in fact it was, literally attached to her own skin... hell it was her skin. The black velvet was a part of her bone white skin... not very surprising considering her clan.

Despite her obvious young age, her statue resembled that of a high born Victorian lady, very prim and proper. Her back straight, her head held aloft, and her hands gently folded.

* * *

R&R

Come to the Dark side… we have cookies!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: nope...Still white wolfs

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The Archbishops eyes lingered on Andrea for a few moments, the silence of the room only interrupted by the distant rumble of thunder and the faint pumping of Wadsworth's frail heart. It was through habit more than necessity that he did so, attempting to understand all he could from the Cainite without direct probing. However, she had passed the most basic of tests; respect, a concept some were painfully unaware of, yet this small consideration meant that he would treat her likewise.

Wadsworth could not hide his nervous disposition as his heart grew deafening. "Get out Wadsworth." his cold words caused the butler to shiver, both at the delight of acknowledgement and fear of violence at the slightest mistake. The old man quickly bowed his head, deciding that it may be better to wait at the front door. He especially didn't want his master to be interrupted.

Only when the servant had closed the doors behind him did Magnus take a seat opposite her, both their eyes seemed intent on staring into each other. He was dressed in his normal, luxurious black suit tailored by Anderson & Sheppard, the red tie not quite as striking as her locks that complemented her morbid clothing taste. "Welcome to London Andreea Serge."

"Where is it that you come from Andreea?" he had picked up on the European accent, having heard it used by many Tzimisce he had encountered, but having never been further east than he was now, he did not know. Once more though, she had silently satisfied a small part of gaining the Lasombra's trust. After all, he had never dealt with Tzimisce traitors...just his own.

"And more importantly, why have you come to London?"

Andreea paused a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking, drats... her accent must be unreasonalbly thick tonight.

"I was born in a small town in Romania, but I was embraced in Rome, Italy, sir." Andreea stated simply, but for the second question, something changed in Andreeas eyes, something small flickered. It was distant, sad and almost angry as if thinking of it brought back painful memories that she wished to keep buried in their grave.

As for why I have come to London... It is simply because I could no longer remain in Italy, much to my displeasure, sir."

She was being vague and she knew it. But she would not reveal all her secretes like some frightened and chatty ninny who wished to greatly impress all at once with unimpressive infomation, and then turned out to be a great annoyance.

"More or less, sir, I am looking for a new haven to call my own."

Magnus sat in perfect stillness as she explained her travels. He knew she was not a native of the area, not because of her accent combined with youth, but rather the fact that most of their Sect had been wiped out in previous years. He noted the emotion in her as she spoke of her past, but did not comment. He too once had a heart, once felt despair, sorrow, anger...love. That emotion would drain away if she survived long enough.

"I'm so very glad you came, Andreea. All brothers and sisters of the Sabbat have a place here." He finally spoke cool, once more without any particular tone, his face as jaded as ever. "No doubt you are aware of the war that our kind finds itself in with...them." His natural mask slipped as he could not hide his distaste in the word. It was applicable though, the Camarilla were a different race of beings to them. As for the Anarchs...a nuisance who couldn't make their fucking minds up.

"Here, the war is like no other. The Camarilla were unchallenged for thirty years and they still believe they are the rulers of this land. I have made it a point to show them otherwise."

He thought the murder of the Prince would be proof enough, but still they persisted. It didn't matter; he had all the time in the world.

"You will find safe haven in Camden and Hackney; both are completely free of the dogs. The Hilltop hotel exclusively accommodates members of our family, as well as here in the Empire. Wherever you decide, I implore you to make it in the eastern boroughs. The remainder of the region is somewhat...lacking in suitable company." His polite tone had been perfected to mask his deep hatred, firmly believing that it was his actions that truly defined his opinion.

"But I must ask you something Andreea. The time will come where the Camarilla will make their mistakes, and we will make them suffer for it. When the time comes, will you answer the call?"

I actually have a haven in mind, sir... it is well within the Eastern borders… There is an old and abandoned Asylum but a short walk from here that I have found to my liking, with your permission sir, I would very much like to make my haven there… I however will not think of it further if you have plans for it, as it is well within your territory…"

She asked him softly and as politely as possible, because it was in fact inside of his territory, and well within his hunting grounds… So, if he did in fact have plans for it, she would vacate it and forget its existence immediately.

"But I must ask you something Andreea. The time will come where the Camarilla will make their mistakes, and we will make them suffer for it. When the time comes, will you answer the call?"

Andreea's eyes swirled at the prospect of getting her hands on one of the swine. A truly monstrous and blood chilling smile graced her blood red lips or maybe she was just showing her teeth, one could never tell with her.

"With pleasure., my lord, with pleasure..."

Andreea's tone was somewhere between a sharp snarl and a deep growl as her eyes narrowed to mere slits with flashes of red and her voice dropped to a low rumble as outside thunder bellowed loud enough to shake items on the walls and rattle the windows as if to emphasize the young Cainites words, before she took the breath she no longer needed and quickly calmed herself. It would not do for her to lose her temper in front of the Archbishop.

But by now she felt a little more comfortable around him, not enough for her to chatter on and on about herself and reveal all of her secretes. Oh no, no no... she would NEVER be that comfortable with this vampire or any vampire. But she felt she could tell him this...

"You understand, sir, the dogs have taken much from me, not only my brothers and sisters of the sword... but they have also taken from me my home, my entire bloodline, my clan, and most recently my Sire..."

* * *

R&R

Come to the Dark side… We have cookies!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: ITS FANFICTION PEOPLE! OF COURSE IT"S NOT MINE!

* * *

The thunder drew the attention of the Archbishop, causing his eyes to flit to the boarded up window for a moment. London would be all too familiar with things going bump in the night soon enough. He disregarded her request until she answered his question. Frankly there was no need; if she refused to fight for the Sabbat she was unworthy to truly pledge herself. Had that been the case, she would find herself hunted by packs for sport. He was glad on some level that it was not so.

"Excellent Andreea...most excellent. Rest assured that you shall have your retribution." His expression seemed to soften somewhat, satisfied with her spirit. "In that case, I do hope you find the asylum to your satisfaction." He understood that to the Tzimisce a haven was more than a home, and would certainly spread word of the building now being occupied. By which he would get Wadsworth to do it. He wasn't much better for anything else.

"Was there anything else you wished to know?"

Andreea stiffened at the question... She bit her bottom lip slightly and shifted a little her her chair, she was almost uncertain if she should or even wanted to ask the one question that was bitting at her tongue... But more importantly if she should tell the Archbishop about the Gangrel she had ran in to a few nights back... Would he be pleased with her for infoming him, annoyed for mentioning so trivial... or worse angry that she didn't kill him for being so deep in his territory. She shifted just as uneasily in the chair, now avoiding the Archbishops eyes as she inwardly debated with herself.

It could be nothing...

It could be something...

Andreea started to ring her hands, a bit of a nervous twitch of hers she had yet to shake. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't... It was times like this she wished her Sire was still with her, he would know what to do... She wanted to make a good impression, she needed to! But she didn't want to seem like some nervous nelly or worse some annoying nat...

There it was, a faint glimmer of weakness, nerves regarding some matter. Monroe's pupils dilated to pinpricks onto her, and his expression grew darker. Secrets? There was nothing to be hidden from him if the Sect was to survive here. There was nothing to be hidden from him if She was to survive here.

"Something wrong Andreea?" there was no sweetness or innocence in his voice, nothing that would give the inclination that she was a sister to him. The Camarilla would not be so stupid as to send an agent here, not even the sewer rats would risk exposure. He slowly rose to his feet, taking slow and powerful steps closer and closer.

He abruptly halted no particular distance away, merely solidifying a position of power. He was a man of few words when he didn't want something, and usually fewer in the case of his lesser. His hard grey eyes bore down on her as he drew upon his power to dominate others minds.

The distant thunder grumbled again.

"Tell me."

Andreea felt his power now. Now she had no choice but to tell him… Damn her and her nervous twitch!

"It is probably nothing, my lord..." Andreea bit her lips again, still not looking at him as she gathered her thoughts trying to decide how she should put this.

"However, it might be something… It seemed rather odd to me at least…" Andreea paused but a moment to gather all of her courage before she finally met the Archbishops gaze. His eyes were cold and hard.

"The night before last, while hunting I came across an Anarch, Gangrel clan, by the name of Benjiman, no last name that I know of … I know not what he was doing here nor why, but something about him seemed off, not insane mind you, just not quite right. He was not in his humanistic form when I found him, but in the form of a gray wolf… He was also alone. After a few moments he turned tail and took off as a bird. I was unsure if I should mention it to you…"

Andreea paused a moment,

"I did not wish to bother you with it, if it turned out to be a trivial matter."

Andreea bit her lips, hoping she didn't sound foolish, but it did strike her as strange… maybe the Archbishop would shed some light on the matter. Andreea continued to gaze up at the Archbishop, trying to gage his reaction, she'd have to kill herself if he started laughing at her…. She hoped he wouldn't but somehow, she didn't think he was the laughing type.

"Curious." She may have prattled on about the details, but it was indeed an unusual thing for an Anarch to be in the eastern parts. They knew better than anyone that the Sabbat was in charge here. He was still hovering over her, his authority still dominant in the room. "I am surprised that they dare to enter our land, but not concerned. The Anarchs remember far too well what happens, though remedial enough to seek their domain back." He spared her another moment of intense probing eyes before turning, and pacing the room.

"You see, two years ago I led the Sabbat back to London. The east was populated by many Camarilla, but the Anarchs were dominant." He closed his eyes, conjuring images of the area before Sabbat rule. The images seemed too farfetched. "But when their Baron fell, so too did their hope of survival. Do not concern yourself as to why they are here, or how they act. Anarchs are all domesticated animals. The Camarilla takes the beast out of them to keep them weak. They must be put down. It is the most...humane thing to do." He stopped in his tracks, his back to her as his shoulders shuddered. A short, quiet laugh emitted and he turned to reveal the slightest of smiles painted on his face. Still, it wasn't quite normal.

And then it was gone instantly.

"If you seek guidance, then know this; in our land we do what we please. Anyone who is not a brother or sister is to be killed or captured. The Masquerade is to be ravaged until it is shattered. We will break the Camarilla; we will break all who stand against us." Once more he came closer to her, but now without aggression or suspicion.

He lay a hand on her chin, to hold her gaze. "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am with you. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

He left out the fact that he was quoting God.

* * *

R&R

Come to the dark side… we have cookies!


End file.
